Buried Deep
by Cookiekitten
Summary: Psychologist Weselton's newest patient is a girl desperate to reunite with her missing sister, clinging to the hope of building a snowman with her one more time. Silent Hill: Shattered Memories!AU


**Loosely follows the plot of Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. Speaking of which, Silent Hill in general would make a pretty neat Frozen AU.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen.**

* * *

Doctor Weselton stares across the room with steepled fingers and a clinically bland expression. He exhales sharply through his nose, causing that ratty white mustache to flutter. I scarcely pay him any attention—my eyes are flickering erratically around my surroundings. I stare briefly at the snowflakes falling from outside the lone glass window. Then at the bookshelves overflowing with textbooks of all sorts of cheerful things, like _childhood trauma_ and _post-traumatic stress disorder_ and _major depression_. Then at the shiny gilded nameplate sitting on the desk that reads _D. Weselton Psy.D._

There's the sound of a cleared throat. "Miss Arendelle? I ask you again: why do you think you are here?"

"To find my sister," I reply immediately. Shouldn't that have been obvious? "I can't find her. I've looked everywhere." Panic begins to seep in. "Why isn't she here? Where is she?"

"Miss Arendelle."

" _I want my sister!_ " I scream. My voice has risen to a childish wail. Papa would scold me, to see me yelling like this. Right now, I can't even bring myself to care. Tears well up in my eyes, hot and stinging, and I busy myself with reaching over to grab a handful of tissues.

The doctor leans back in his chair and flips his notepad to a fresh page. He generously waits for my noisy sobbing to abate before speaking next. "I think it would be best for us to start from the beginning. Review what happened. Can you do that for me?"

"...Start from the beginning?" I hiccup back, probably muffled from the wad of tissues I'm still burying my face into.

"The beginning," Doctor Weselton confirms. "I'm here to help you, Miss Arendelle, but I need to know the full story." His pen is poised at the top of the notepad. He waits, eyebrows raised expectantly, and I take a deep breath.

"...Okay." My hands twist together and the dull thud of my heartbeat sounds like thunder to my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut. "My sister and I... we were playing outside. I wanted to build a snowman, but she... she thought we should go skating instead, since the pond was finally frozen over..."

* * *

"Hey, are you okay? Wake up! Whoa—easy there, Sven. Sven, stop that!"

There is an odd snuffling noise in front of her face, and Anna opens her eyes to see an enormous German Shepherd nudging her with a happy-dog-smile on its happy-dog-face. A little further off stands an equally enormous young man in a police officer's uniform.

Anna bolts up as quickly as a five year old bundled up in winter clothes possibly could, then promptly slips on the ice and falls on her butt. "Ow, ow, ow..."

"You okay?" the man says again, crouching down. He runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair and shifts his weight carefully from one foot to the other—oh, right, they're standing in the middle of the frozen pond. He's probably worried the ice won't support him. He makes a beckoning motion with one hand, slowly edging his way back to solid ground, and the girl obediently follows. She plops onto the snow once they're both off the ice.

The man crouches next to her again. "My name is Kristoff Bjorgman. I'm a police officer, and this is my dog, Sven. I'm here to help you, okay? What's your name?"

"Anna Arendelle."

"Are you hurt anywhere, Anna? What were you doing out here all alone?"

No, she's not hurt, but it takes her a few seconds to remember _why_ she's even outside to begin with. The memories start flowing back, one after another. Skating. She had been skating on the pond with her sister. And at some point she must have blacked out, because the next thing she knew, she'd woken up with the police officer's dog in her face. After a moment, Anna realizes that Kristoff is still talking to her. "—you were just lying there on the ice, in the middle of a snowstorm like this! And with no one around! Didn't your parents ever tell you not to run off alone like this?"

"I wasn't alone, my big sister Elsa's here with me," Anna protests, as if that simple fact invalidates the officer's concerns. Which it totally does, because after all, Mama always praises how mature Elsa is for her age, so that must mean she's practically an adult by now.

"Oh yeah? How old is your sister?"

"Eight!" To a little girl of Anna's diminutive five years, _eight_ seems like a pretty impressive number indeed.

The blond man just slaps his forehead and groans. "That's still too young to be without supervision. I think I'll have to have a word with your parents."

At this, Anna takes on the expression of someone caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "...It's not Mama and Papa's fault. We snuck out of the house to play outside, didn't we, Elsa?" She blinks, as if remembering, and looks around. "Elsa?"

The police officer scans the area as well, but there's no one else around. "Didn't you say your sister was here with you? Where is she?"

"I don't know!"

"Where do you live?"

Anna gestures vaguely with a mittened hand. "Over there. Winter Avenue." She bites her lip. "One-two-two… um, one. I think."

Kristoff just nods. "All right, then, let's get going."

1221 Winter Avenue, as it turns out, is only a few blocks from the frozen pond. Anna clings to this idea like a drowning man to a raft. "Maybe I slipped and hit my head on the ice. And Elsa was worried about me, so she probably just ran home to get Mama and Papa, right?"

Kristoff doesn't have the heart to tell her that running such a short distance to get help would have taken her sister maybe four minutes at most, and that he and Anna had been in each other's company for at least twenty. "Er, yeah, I'm sure that's what happened."

"Great! I think so, too. Elsa would never leave me for no reason. She's the best big sister ever, did I tell you?"

"Yeah, you might have mentioned it... oh, five or ten times by now." Kristoff massages his temples with a groan. He reads the number on a mailbox and then steers the little girl up one of the driveways. "This your house?"

She nods vigorously.

The police officer steps forward and knocks on the front door. There's the sound of footsteps from the other side and the door swings open, revealing an older woman with graying brown hair. Try as he might, Kristoff can't see any trace of family resemblance between the woman at the door and the little girl by his side.

"Can I help you?" the woman says politely. She looks at Anna with an expression of motherly concern but not motherly _recognition_ , and Kristoff's suspicions are only confirmed when her hand jumps over her heart and she says, "Oh, poor dear, are you lost?"

Anna's voice is tiny, and then she begins to cry. "Who are you? Why are you in my house? Aren't Mama and Papa home?"

"Sweetie, I think you have the wrong house," the woman says gently.

Kristoff cranes his neck to look back over at the numbers painted on the mailbox. "This _is_ 1221 Winter Avenue, right?"

"It is. My husband and I have lived here for about ten years now." The woman disappears for a moment, and then walks back with her purse in hand. She fishes her license from her wallet and offers it to the police officer. Printed neatly below the name _Gerda Anderson_ is the house's address.

The name rings a bell, and Kristoff realizes belatedly that he knows the woman and her husband. Not personally, of course, but he's met them before. Gerda and Kai Anderson are both schoolteachers, and he's exchanged a few friendly conversations with them during those times that he's visited the elementary school. A sweet couple, much beloved by all their students.

Not the kind of people who would ever deceive a lost little girl.

He hands the license back. "We must have made a mistake. Sorry to bother you."

The woman tucks her wallet back in her purse. She pauses before closing the door, worry showing in every line on her face. "Is there anything I can do?"

"We'll be fine. Thank you, though."

Gerda nods. "Good luck, dear." And she closes the door.

Anna's voice is hoarse from crying as Kristoff walks her to his police cruiser. "I'm not lying, that's my house! Where are my parents? Where's Elsa?"

"Hey, look… I'm taking you to the station and we'll get this all sorted out there, okay?" Kristoff brushes some snow from the little girl's hair and wishes, for a brief moment, that he knew more about how to reassure an upset child.

Anna shrinks down a little. "…You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's not that. I think you're just confused." The police officer opens the back door of the cruiser and lifts the girl inside, reaching over to fasten the seatbelt across her tiny form. He opens the opposite door and allows Sven to jump inside, where he flops next to the girl like a giant furry pillow. "You were alone out there in the storm for who knows how long, and—I don't know, maybe you really did hit your head on the ice or something. You probably just got the house numbers mixed up. Don't worry, we'll figure it out."

Anna's response is a noncommittal noise. Kristoff just sighs. He starts the car and cranks the heat up as high as it will go, then grabs his ice scraper and starts clearing snow from the windows. By the time he's done, the car is pleasantly toasty inside. "Okay," he says, shifting into drive and cautiously scanning the road for ice, "we're heading to the police station now, but first we're going to make a quick stop at the high school, okay?"

The little girl's tearstained face is visible from the rearview mirror, and the sight makes Kristoff's heart clench. "Why's that?" she asks. She sounds like she's trying to be brave.

"The gymnasium is used as an emergency shelter during storms. I want to see if there's anyone there who needs help."

A hint of tremulous hope enters Anna's voice. "Maybe Elsa's there, right?"

Kristoff nods. "Right."

* * *

The drive passes by in silence after that; Kristoff is concentrating on the icy road while Anna busies herself with fluffing up Sven's fur. At the very least, it seems to be distracting the little girl from what had just happened. It takes less than fifteen minutes for them to pull into the high school's parking lot, and Anna is already unbuckling her seat belt and pressing her face against the window before Kristoff has even removed his keys. "Let's go, let's go! She's waiting for me, I know it!"

Kristoff sighs and opens the door. "Okay, hold up there, feisty pants. You have to promise not to run off ahead, got it?" he grunts, but it's too late—Anna is already dashing up to the school. The police officer swears under his breath. He gathers Sven's leash in his hands, hooks it to the German Shepherd's harness, and runs after her.

Anna is struggling to open the heavy door by the time Kristoff and Sven have made it to her side, and she offers a guilty shrug and a halfhearted explanation of, "Sorry, you were taking too long." Then she squeaks in surprise when the blond man reaches down and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Hey, put me down!"

Kristoff gives it a nanosecond, then shakes his head and opens the door with the hand that was not busy restraining the little girl futilely beating his back with tiny clenched fists. "Nope, sorry." He looks around the interior of the high school with interest: there's no one else around, but there are signs that there _should_ be—there are balloons everywhere and the walls are papered with colorful posters and arrows all pointing in the direction of the gymnasium.

Anna speaks up. At this point, she has given up on escaping from Kristoff's hold and is now lying limply over his shoulder, arms crossed in a pouting gesture. "Is there a party or something?"

The police officer takes a closer look at the nearest poster. "It's a five-year high school reunion. Looks like no one showed up, though, because of the weather." He pulls open the door to the gymnasium and steps inside, and then cocks his head in surprise. "Okay, scratch that. It looks like _one_ person made it out here."

He regrets his words because Anna immediately squirms around to escape—finally, he's forced to set her back onto the ground or risk dropping her. The little girl looks around eagerly, and then wilts slightly. True, there's one other person in the cheerfully decorated gymnasium, but it's not her older sister. Instead, it's a handsome red-haired man who looks to be in his early twenties, standing near the snack table and fiddling with his phone with a bored expression. The man glances up and waves. "You here for the reunion?"

Kristoff is about to respond in the negative, but Anna pipes up before he's even opened his mouth. "No, we're on a _rescue mission!_ " she says importantly. Then, because she thinks that might have been a little rude, she sticks out her hand and tries to look dignified like Mama. "I'm Anna Arendelle."

The red-haired man laughs, but in a kind way, not a making-fun-of-Anna way. "Hans Westergard. It's nice to meet you, Anna." He shakes her hand, then looks back toward Kristoff. "Quite a storm, isn't it? I'm the only one in my class who showed up here. Some reunion this turned out to be."

The police officer frowns. "Why don't you just leave?"

"Can't. I'm waiting for my fiancée to come pick me up." Hans grabs a sandwich from the snack table and bites into it. "What did you say you were doing here? A 'rescue mission,' was it?"

Anna ignores the sandwiches and instead scoops up a handful of chocolate truffles. "We're looking for my older sister, Elsa. She has blonde hair and is super smart and amazing, have you seen her?"

Hans swallows a mouthful of food. "Haven't seen anyone, sorry. Was she supposed to be here at the reunion tonight?" Then, suddenly, a flicker of recognition passes over the man's face. He sets the sandwich back down onto his plate with a small frown. "Hold up a second. Did you say your last name is Arendelle?" he asks slowly. "I knew an Elsa Arendelle in school. She was in the year below mine."

Kristoff shakes his head. "The girl we're looking for is eight years old," he clarifies.

Hans looks unconvinced. "She was in our school's varsity softball team. Used to be a little bit of an ice queen, though, I suppose. Come on, there's an old photo over here, I'll show you." He stands up and begins walking away. Anna, Kristoff, and Sven follow wordlessly behind.

Hans stops in the middle of the school's main hallway. The section of wall is covered by a row of framed photographs. He scans them quickly, then reaches up to pluck one from the wall and offers it to Anna. "She's right there, by Merida and Rapunzel, see?" he says, pointing into the photo at a blonde girl sandwiched between a tomboyish redhead and a choppy-haired brunette.

Anna stares.

The girl in the photo looks to be about seventeen, pale and slender and pretty, with a blandly polite smile. She has platinum blonde hair pulled into a loose braid, sad blue eyes, and her hands are clasped rigidly on her lap. Anna turns the photo every which way, holds it up to the light, brings the frame so close to her face that her nose smudges the glass. And she stares.

"She looks like Mama," she finally says, handing the photo to Kristoff, who examines it closely before hanging it back up on the wall.

"She looks like _you_ ," Hans says reasonably.

"No," Anna says determinedly, "that's not my sister."

* * *

Hans graciously allows Kristoff to use his cell phone since his own has a dead battery, though not before some friendly ribbing of "come on, man, you need to carry a charger with you so shit like this doesn't happen, yeah?" The police officer fiddles with the scrap of paper in his hand that has Anna's father's number scrawled on it—coaxed out of the little girl during the drive to the high school—but he is reluctant to make the call with her standing so close by. Something about this whole situation doesn't seem right to him.

He makes a discreet shooing motion when Anna's back is turned, and luckily Hans seems to pick up on it. The red-haired man puts on a goofy face and challenges the girl to a chocolate cookie eating contest, and the two of them race back to the snack table, far enough that the phone call can be made in relative privacy but still safely within eyeshot. Kristoff retreats to the corner of the gymnasium. He dials the number with one hand while idly stroking Sven's fur with the other.

He doesn't have to wait long for an answer.

" _Hello?_ " the man on the other end says.

Kristoff makes an effort to keep his voice low, although he's fairly sure that Anna and Hans are too engrossed in their eating contest to be paying him the least bit of attention. "Hi, uh, is this Agdar Arendelle?"

" _Yes, it is. May I ask who's calling?_ "

"My name is Officer Kristoff Bjorgman."

" _Chief Cliff Bjorgman's son?_ " Agdar Arendelle's voice becomes noticeably warmer. Kristoff can't help but feel a surge of pride that his father, the city's chief of police, is so well-liked in the community. "Yeah, that's me," he says.

" _Is there a problem? Why are you calling?_ "

"I'm calling to inquire about the location of your daughter, Elsa."

There is a brief silence on the line. "... _Elsa? Elsa is probably still at the lighthouse._ "

What?

No matter how hard he tries, Kristoff can't quite make sense of this answer. Before he can reply, however, the other man speaks again. " _Why are you asking about Elsa? Is someone looking for her?_ "

This doesn't make sense, either.

There's a whine from somewhere near his hip, and the police officer realizes his hand is clenched tight around Sven's fur. He lets go and soothingly rubs behind the German Shepherd's ears. He lets out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, then tries to explain. "I have your younger daughter, Anna, here with me right now. We're been trying to find—"

" _Is this some kind of joke? Who do you think you are?_ " The voice on the other end is suddenly distraught, any traces of warmth now completely absent.

"What?" Kristoff is flabbergasted. "No, I—"

" _Stay the hell away from my family!_ " And the line goes dead.

Kristoff slowly lowers the phone and stares blankly at the screen. In a daze, he dials a new number and raises the phone to his ear once more. "Olaf? Are you still at the station?"

" _Hey, Sven! Yeah, I'm still here. Phone's been ringing off the hook from all the problems the storm's causing, so I can't leave yet._ "

"For the last time, Sven's my _dog's_ name. I'm Kristoff, remember?"

" _Yeah, yeah, fine. Is there anything you need?_ "

Kristoff swallows. His throat feels very dry. "I need you to pull some files for me. The name is 'Arendelle.' Tell me what you can find."

* * *

Anna is the reigning champion of chocolate-cookie-eating by the time Kristoff and Sven rejoin her and Hans at the snack table. She scrambles up hopefully as the police officer approaches, but her face falls at the pinched expression he's wearing. "Did you talk to Papa? Does he know where Elsa is?"

Kristoff blinks. He looks a little ill, and Anna thinks that's weird because _he's_ not the one who just ate half a platter of cookies. "Huh? Oh, um, right. I talked to your father, he said your sister is probably at the lighthouse. He... uh, I mean, the call got cut off afterwards so I don't know anything more. Sorry."

"The lighthouse?" Anna has no idea why Elsa would be at the lighthouse, wherever that even _is_ , but her hand is already tugging at Kristoff's sleeve. "Okay, let's go!"

"Hold it, feisty pants, let me tell you how this is going to work. I'm dropping _you_ off at the station first, then Sven and I are going on to the lighthouse to get your sister, okay?"

Anna's jaw drops, because Kristoff's plan is most certainly Not Okay. She says as much, once she finishes glaring at him: "No, that's not okay!"

The police officer looks like he's about to argue back, but he's interrupted by Hans. "You know, the lighthouse _is_ right on the way to the police station," the red-haired man says slowly. "You'd be saving a trip if you just took her with you." He flashes a grin when Kristoff shoots him an annoyed glare. "Just saying."

As much as he hates to admit it, Hans' reasoning makes perfect sense. And Anna is just staring at him with the most pathetic puppy dog face he's ever seen. "Please," she sniffles, "I want to see my sister."

Kristoff sighs. He's going to regret this later, he knows it. "…Okay, _fine_." Anna cheers and does a happy little dance, and he can't help but smile a bit. He looks back up to face Hans. "What about you, Westergard? You going to be okay if we leave?"

Hans laughs. "I'll survive. I mean, there's enough food here to feed an army, so it's not like I'm going to starve." He smiles at Anna. "Your sister is lucky. I have twelve brothers and I doubt any of them would be crazy enough to venture through this blizzard to look for me."

"Well, there's your fiancée, right?" Kristoff says.

The red-haired man grins. "Yeah. She just sent me a text saying she'll be here soon. Nice to know that there's _someone_ out there who loves me."

* * *

Anna spends most of the car ride answering Kristoff's weird questions about her wellbeing.

"Are you feeling dizzy?" he asks, to which she answers, "Not really."

"Do you feel sick?"

"Um, maybe a little, from all the cookies."

"Any blurred vision?"

"What does that even mean?"

Kristoff releases a sharp breath. "I'm just worried, that's all." He puts the car into park but doesn't make any move to open the door.

Anna can see the lighthouse from out her window. It's a more modern-looking building than she was expecting. "Why are you worried? We'll go in there and find Elsa, then we'll find Mama and Papa and we can all go home together."

The blond man sighs. " _That's_ why I'm worried." He opens his door, then goes around to let Anna and Sven out. "I'm not sure you'll like what you find in there." He keeps one hand on the little girl's back as they make their way up the snowy path. Half-covered in ice, there's a metal sign by the front entrance of the building.

 _Lighthouse Clinic_

 _D. Weselton Psy.D_

 _Counseling and Family Therapy_

Kristoff stops a few yards from the front door. He crouches down to bring himself to eye level with Anna and places both hands on her shoulders. "Listen," he says slowly, "when I was borrowing Hans' phone, I called a buddy of mine to do some research at the police station. He told me an interesting story."

Rooted to the spot, Anna just stares into the man's stricken eyes. "Okay?"

"He told me a story about two little girls who were playing out in the snow. They were sisters. The two of them ran off to skate on the frozen pond."

Anna frowns. "Is your story about me and Elsa? I already know how it ends. I woke up and Elsa was gone, so you helped me look for her, right?"

The police officer clenches his jaw. "Anna, that's not how the story ends. The ice was weak. The younger girl fell into the cold water. Her sister pulled her out and screamed for their parents, but by the time they made it to the hospital, it was too late."

Kristoff's voice is firm, but gentle.

"You can't be Anna Arendelle," he says softly, "because Anna Arendelle died of hypothermia thirteen years ago."

Anna stops in her tracks. Furrows her brow. Stares at Kristoff for a long time, and then looks down and stares at herself, as if expecting her body to be transparent like a ghost. "...You think I'm not me?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." The police officer kicks at a nearby mound of snow. He turns his gaze back over to the lighthouse. "Guess the answers you're looking for are in there, huh?"

The little girl steels her nerves. "I'm going inside!" she declares, stomping through the snow and tugging in vain on the doorknob. She can't pull the door open—there's too much snow piled up against it. "...A little help here?"

"Hang on, feisty pants." Kristoff wrenches the door open to the sound of crunching snow and splintering ice. Anna runs inside first, followed closely by Sven, who shakes the fine layer of white powder from his fur as best he can. The blond man closes the door behind him and takes a cautious glance around—a waiting room, seems ordinary enough. The lights are on, despite the fact that there's no one else around, not even a receptionist at the desk in the corner.

The room leads to a long hallway dotted with doors. All of them look dark and unoccupied, until Anna spies at the very end—a single door with light shining through the gap. She stumbles toward it, ignoring Kristoff's concerned voice calling her back, and stares. The door is white and blue with a silver handle.

She raises her hand, knocks, and whispers, "Elsa?"

* * *

The room is silent for a long time after I've finished talking. Doctor Weselton's desk is littered with papers of scribbled notes, but he tucks them away in favor of just fixing me with a careful look. Finally, he says, "Miss Arendelle, what is it that you're trying to accomplish by coming here?"

"To find my sister." I was beginning to get annoyed. How many times did I have to make this clear? Tears begin to blur my vision again, and my gaze shifts downward. "Papa said you'd help me find where she's gone."

"And where do _you_ think she's gone, Miss Arendelle?"

My head hurts. I wish he'd stop talking. "I don't know. I don't know anything."

"You do know. The answer is _right here_." The doctor taps his forehead. "Buried under a mountain of denial and repression." He looks at me intently. "You were a child. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

What is he talking about?

"It's been thirteen years since she died."

Thirteen years since _what?_

"Miss Arendelle—no, _Elsa_. Please."

Leave me alone.

"The sister running around in your head isn't even a ghost. She never existed. Just a figment of your imagination. You need to let it go."

And then I hear it, from the other side of the door. The sound of a tiny, mittened fist rapping against the wood. _Knock, knock, knock-knock, knock._ The door creaks open. There's a flash of green woolen coat and strawberry blonde pigtails. And for what feels like the first time in forever, I'm staring into the face of my little sister.

Anna!

She's here! I've found her, I've finally found her!

But.

My eyes flicker back to Doctor Weselton. He hasn't shown any reaction to the knocking. Or the door opening. Or Anna's presence at all. He's just looking over those stupid notes he's written. Why doesn't he see her? She's right here. She's right here, she's right here, _she's right here!_

My heart twists painfully and I draw in a shaky breath. When I speak, my voice is a hoarse whisper. "...Anna?"

My sister bounces over to where I'm slumped in a pathetic heap on the couch with my knees drawn up against my chest. She's so small that the top of her head is barely level with my stomach, even though I'm sitting down. She can't be older than five, and that doesn't make any sense. I'm twenty-one, Anna should... Anna should be eighteen now.

"Anna?" I say again. There's hesitation in my voice where there should have been joy and relief. I shakily reach out and grab her mittened hand. My fingers are numb. I can't feel anything at all, but Anna's smile warms my heart, thaws the ice, just a little.

"Hi, Elsa," she says. "Sorry we never got to build that snowman."

I look over at the window. The storm hasn't stopped yet. "We still can, Anna. It's not too late. Look—look at all the snow outside! The sky's awake. The sky's awake, Anna." I'm starting to ramble. From the corner of my eye, I can see Doctor Weselton looking up in concern, but I'm beyond caring. "Anna. Anna, Anna. Do you want to build a snowman? Anna, do you... do you want to build a..."

I try to squeeze Anna's hand, but I feel nothing but air. "Elsa," she murmurs.

"Oh, Anna," I sob. "Anna, I've been looking for you for so long."

My sister beams up at me. "You stinker," she giggles. "You don't have to look anymore." She reaches forward and pokes me in the heart. "I'll be right here for you, always."

* * *

When I exit Doctor Weselton's office, there's a scruffy blond man in a police officer's uniform sitting in the waiting room. He waves with his free hand, clutching the leash of a massive German Shepherd in the other. "Are you Elsa Arendelle?" he asks, a little awkwardly. I nod, so he continues, "Your parents called the station a little while ago. They were worried that you were gone so long with the storm being this bad. I was in the area so I figured I'd, uh, stop by." He sticks out a gloved hand. "Officer Kristoff Bjorgman. Oh, and this is Sven."

Too tired to be bothered to do much else, I just nod again and shake the proffered hand and mumble a greeting.

We release each other's hand, and the room is full of awkward silence. Officer Bjorgman readjusts his grip on Sven's leash, and I wrap my arms around my midsection and stare at the floor. "I'll help you dig your car out of the snow. You ready to go?" the police officer finally says. He turns and walks to the door.

"Wait!" I cry out.

Halfway out the door, he pauses. Turns back to face me again. Despite the fact that one of them is a man while the other is a dog, he and Sven are wearing identical questioning expressions. "Something wrong?"

The question flies from my mouth before I can stop it. "Did you see someone else here earlier?" _A little girl named Anna, with strawberry blonde hair and freckles and a smile as warm as summer?_

Officer Bjorgman shoots me a puzzled look. "Nope, no one. Were you waiting for somebody?"

I want so badly to say _yes_. But I can't. "…No, it's nothing. I wasn't expecting anyone."

 _ _L_ et it go_, the doctor had said. I have to move forward.

The past is in the past.

I take a deep breath and will my arms to relax, to hang loosely at my sides instead of rigidly crossing over my stomach. The wind blows through the open door, cold and biting and sparkling with flakes of ice, and it feels wonderful.

I hurry out the door, pushing past the surprised officer and his dog. Snow crunches under my feet and I can't help myself—I flop down haphazardly onto the ground and pile little mountains of white around my body. Tears stream down my face and I'm sobbing and laughing at the same time because never in the last thirteen years have I ever felt so free.

 _Goodbye, Anna._

Gently, Officer Bjorgman kneels down next to me, while Sven wiggles onto my lap. I wipe my eyes and offer a wavery smile, and then I say, "Can you help me build a snowman?"

* * *

 _Patient: Arendelle, Elsa_

 _Initial Assessment_

 _Transcribing my notes on the patient. Detailed discussion of delusions, etc, etc. will be saved for later assessment._

 _Background information was obtained from the patient's parents, previous psychologists, and multiple psychological, educational, and medical reports. Parents are concerned about patient's psychological repression of a traumatic experience that occurred thirteen years ago (age eight), which resulted in the death of her younger sister. Following the accident, patient was reported to have become anxious and depressed, spending most of her time in her bedroom and withdrawing from social interaction. Note: patient and family moved to a different house three years later (please get more details). Prior and current academic performance is exemplary, although patient is noted by teaching staff and classmates to be 'frigid.'  
_

 _Patient expresses denial over sister's death. She harbors extensive delusions that her sister is still alive and has been 'missing' for the last thirteen years. Shows particular attachment to the fantasy that her sister 'wandered off' just prior to the accident and is actively searching to reunite. Symptoms are noted to worsen in the presence of snowy weather (flashbacks?). Auditory and visual hallucinations are likely. Patient seems to shift between moments of blankness and uncontrolled emotional expression._

 _During the assessment, the patient was shown to be mostly cooperative. Possibility of a breakthrough at the end of today's session. Outlook is tentatively positive. I am confident the patient will be back for further treatment._


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